Crimson
by subseeker
Summary: Crimson stains on his body... on his soul. That's what Randy sees when he looks at John, knowing that it's his fault and that he has to make sure John is never gonna go back to... the other man. Slash, guys! Centon, very much. Mentions of John/OC. Mentions of violence and abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Hellooo all of you out there! I know, I'm late with posting anything in my ongoing stories and I'm not happy about it, but my job is very demanding at the moment and I don't have much time lately to write :,-(

I wrote this one a while ago and never posted it, don't really know why. I tripped over it in my archive a week ago and now I decided to start to post it bit by bit until I've got more time to go on with my other stories.

Enjoy ;-)

xxx

The last rays of the setting sun reached out into the darkening colors of the dying day, clinging to them as if to stop the sun from drowning in the far horizon. It was a gorgeous sunset with vivid coloring, deep blue, burning red, soft violet and sparkling orange and looking at it was like looking at a living work of art. And wasn't there a thin light blue line in between? As blue as _his_ eyes, full of live and joy?

Randy stood at the window, his eyes fixed on the sunset, drawn to it like a moth to the flame. It was a sight that should have put a smile on his lips, instead those lips were pressed to a thin line.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself that everything would be alright after this night, the knot in his stomach wouldn't go away. It felt like a heavy stone, accompanied by a slight sickness.

Two hours… still two hours left until he would find himself at the proverbial point of no return and either he would ruin everything by being himself or he would for once manage not to shoot himself in the foot…

Finally he managed to break away from the beautiful sight, walking over to the bathroom. Staring into the mirror Randy looked himself over, once, twice. He sighed. To say that he was nervous would have been an understatement. That he felt guilty, too.

Two hours and he didn't have the least idea how to put into words how sorry he was or what he _felt_. For him. Or how he felt _without_ him.

His thoughts evolved around so many things… This morning for example. It had left him shocked and worried…

_The door jumped open and Randy walked into John's locker. He didn't even bother to knock, because he knew he didn't need to. He had a complimentary ticket to walk in at any time just like that. Into John's locker, his house. Into his life. Because of different schedules they hadn't seen each other in a while and Randy was happy that they were on the show together tonight. Behind him the door clicked shut._

_John was currently changing into his ring-gear and about to slip his shirt over his head. Randy's eyes fell on his friend's upper body and it made him freeze. He remained stock-still, not even a word left his lips while his gaze roamed the picture in front of him._

_Bruises, some small, some quite big, some fading and some fresh, blemished the pale skin, with a few scratches between. Staring at John, Randy's mind refused to accept what his eyes told him. This couldn't be._

"_Hey, Ortz," John called over his shoulder._

"_Hey," Randy murmured back and walked up to him._

_One bruise peeked out from under the waistline of John's shorts, looking suspiciously like a mark resulting from a bruising grip. Then the shirt slipped down the broad back and blocked his view. Instead it revealed another bruise on John's neck. It looked like a choke slam gone wrong. And then John turned around and Randy held his breath. A busted eyebrow and a shiner on his right eye, a slightly swollen and busted lip. John looked incredibly tired but he managed to bring up an honest smile nevertheless. _

"_Good to see you," John said, pulling him into a hug._

_Shocked about John's condition it took Randy a moment to realize that John was hugging him and just when the older man loosened his embrace, Randy pulled him back in, wrapping his arms around him. He held him tight, almost like he was afraid his friend could vanish if he didn't, and the fact that John winced didn't escape his notice. Slowly John's arms came back around his waist and he rested his forehead in an intimate gesture of more than just close friendship and trust against the crook of Randy's neck._

"_What's wrong?" John asked._

_Randy swallowed hard and replied: "You tell me."_

_John tried to take a step back, but Randy gave him just enough room so that they could look at each other._

"_What do you mean?"_

_John did not only look tired, he sounded like he hadn't been sleeping in days._

"_What did he do to you?" Randy asked quietly._

"_What? Who?"_

"_Oh, come on. You know who," the younger man huffed, one hand settling on the nasty mark on John's neck as if to soothe it away. "George. What the fuck happened?"_

_John tensed up ever so slightly and pushed himself away from his friend, bringing some space between them. Again a smile appeared on his face, but this time it wasn't convincing. Randy's hand slipped from John's neck and fell to his side, fingers clenching to a fist._

"_Nothing happened. Training went a little over the top, that's all."_

"_Yeah, sure. John, you look like you ran full force into a bulldozer. You know you can tell me anything, don't you?"_

"_I know, Ortz. But everything is fine, really," the older man assured, smile wavering a bit. _

"_John, please…"_

"_Leave it, Randy. It's fine, okay?" John repeated and this time there was a slightly hard tone in his voice. "So, why did you come here?"_

_Sighing silently Randy decided to drop the subject for now, no matter how hard it was for him to do so, but this wasn't a good place to discuss something like that. He would come back to it later. Maybe tonight…_

"_Well, first of all it's been a while since I saw you and I wanted to drop by and say hello to my best friend," Randy explained, trying to bring up a smile himself, failing to though. "And I wanted to invite you over to my place tonight for dinner. So? Got some time left for me?"_

"_Yeah, that'd be great," John agreed and then there it was, that megawatt smile of his, all dimples and Randy felt warmth spread in his chest._

_They talked a few minutes longer and when Randy left John's locker room, an uneasy feeling stirred in his stomach. And whatever had happened to John, it was Randy's fault. If it hadn't been for him and his idiocy, John wouldn't be where he now was…_

His reflection stared back at him while he kept looking into the mirror, all lost in his thoughts. Maybe he shouldn't have let John put the incident off just like that. And being John's best friend he shouldn't have let him go home at all, should have taken him here directly. The bad feeling that had made itself known the moment he stepped into John's locker this morning had grown to full-blown worry. He'd made a decision over the last three weeks, the time he hadn't seen John, and all he could do now was trying to make it up to him. Somehow.

The images of the bruises popped up in his mind, of the busted lip and eyebrow, the shiner… He'd seen that George-guy only once and he'd been suddenly there, when Randy came back from a Smackdown-Tour. That man was about John's size and didn't seem to be very nice. John never lost a word about how he got to know him or why he jumped just like that into a relationship with a man and someone so unfriendly like _him_. Randy disliked the mere idea of John and this man – he didn't even want to _think_ the name – together, in every possible way...

And in addition to that he had to find John like that, battered and bruised, and sure as hell that hadn't come from a training gone over the top.

_Fuck_.

Now he had to solve two problems – the George-guy problem and his own idiocy.

Frowning he smoothed his hands down his shirt and a small smile tugged at his lips. At least John would like his outfit. Blue jeans, tight black sleeveless shirt and Chucks. Plain and simple.

_Wow, you look stunning, Ortz…_

That was what John had said the first time he'd worn those clothes. Back then this statement had surprised him, but he'd felt flattered nevertheless. Not that he would have admitted it.

Shortly after things became complicated…

_It had been their first match against one another in quite a while and it had been good but demanding. Following the storyline John lost their match and thus was already back at his locker room when Randy arrived backstage after celebrating his victory._

_He walked along the corridor, lost in his thoughts, which were centered on random moments of their match or to be more precise on images that popped up in his mind. There had been confusing moments during the match, very, very confusing moments. Again, an image popped up… John, on the canvas, sweating, panting, face flushed, lips slightly parted as he tried to catch his breath…_

_As he tried to keep his body from reacting, his confusion grew. It wasn't like he hadn't noticed that he was attracted to John, but not on this level. It had always been… okay. This was new. And he could have sworn that John… that look in his eyes, the way he'd moved against him… Randy tried to wrap his mind around that. John had moved against him, he couldn't name it otherwise, in a way you only do in… bed. In front of millions. At least he'd managed to keep it oh so very subtle, but nevertheless... He had to find out…_

_Randy swallowed hard and willed his body not to embarrass him, since he felt his blood rush to southern regions and he was still in his ring gear, surrounded by co-workers and lots of other people._

_Then finally he arrived at John's locker room and pushed the door open. The locker was empty, but he heard the sound of a running shower. The door was closed and locked and then Randy began to walk over to the shower, slowly, hesitantly. The door to the shower was open, revealing a breathtaking view on John who was standing there, engulfed by rising steam. The water that rained down on him cascaded down his body, over flexing muscles and then he tilted his head back, eyes closed and his hands brushed through his face, down his chest and his abs to his erected dick. A low, rumbling groan fell off his lips as he touched himself and Randy caught himself as he reached down to his own dick, finding a matching hardness there. And he kept watching as John started to stroke himself agonizingly slow, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. And through the sound of the falling water he heard a whispered word…_

… _Randy … _

_It was the very moment his common sense shut down and the predator took over…_


	2. Chapter 2

Hellas!

Here is the next part of Crimson, since I'm still struggling to find time to continue with my other stories. Thank you all for reading and reviewing this story

I hope you like this part, too. As always, reviews are most welcome ;-)

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_A shudder ran through his body, his vision narrowing to a tunnel as all his senses focused on John, on his sight under the raining water that was making everything even sexier. On the sounds, his low moans. On his own name, dancing on John's lips… _

_His feet started to move on their own accord, carrying him towards John who was still oblivious of Randy's presence, even when Randy came to stand right behind him. Somewhere along the way Randy's ring gear had become lost._

_For a moment or two Randy only stood there, his eyes roaming the broad back, the flexing muscles… trailed down to that perfect ass… The scent of John's shower gel reached his nose, making his nostrils flare and he breathed deeply, inhaling the well-known smell. A blazing heat flooded his body and he closed his eyes._

_And there it was again, his name, spoken like a velvet sigh…_

_His eyes snapped open. A growl dropped from his lips as he took a step forward, pushing the man in front of him forcefully against the tiled wall. With a startled gasp John tried to brace himself against the wall, but Randy grabbed his wrists and pinned them above the older man's head, trapping him between his own body and the wall._

_John tried to free himself, moving against Randy who had to suppress a moan at the delicate friction as their bodies slid against each other. _

"_Johnny…" he breathed right beside the older man's ear._

_John rewarded him with an involuntary shudder. A pleased hum escaped Randy's throat and he gave the shell of John's ear a nip. A small moan was his answer. _

"_What do you want?" _

_Faintly he noticed how rough his voice was, low and maybe even a little bit threatening._

"_The door…"_

"_Ssh… the door is locked…" Randy hushed him, rolling his hips against John's butt. "What do you want? Johnny?"_

_John's breath hitched and then he whimpered: "I want you…"_

"_Good boy," the younger man whispered, one of his hands sliding down to John's bare thigh. "Don't move."_

_As he moved his hand to John's abs and then further down, coming to rest teasingly close to John's aching cock, all the older man could do was nod helplessly. Randy buried his face against the side of John's neck and smirked as he felt the goose bumps flare on the skin under his hands._

_Finally he let go of John's wrists, taking a step back. His hands trailed lazily over John's muscled back to his hips only to pull that perfect ass back against his groin. For a second or two he allowed himself to take in the sight… a submissive John, slightly bent over with his hands braced against the wall, the firm flesh of John's backside pressed against his own dick… Randy let one hand brush back up, over John's spine to his neck, feeling him shudder again under his touch. His fingers closed tightly around the back of John's neck, holding him in place as he kicked the older man's legs apart._

_His cock throbbed in anticipation. This wasn't the time for tender love-making. God, he wanted him so bad… _

_The hand that rested on John's hips moved to the small of the older man's back, trailing down to the firm, round flesh of John's butt, giving it a possessive squeeze, before he slid his middle finger between the butt cheeks. In responds John pressed back against him. Randy smiled wickedly. Naughty boy…_

_He pushed his middle finger against John's entrance, pushing into his body and John breathed out harshly, his body quivering at the intrusion. Randy took his hand away from John's neck and only a heartbeat later his fingers closed around John's cock, starting to stroke him slowly. The touch drew a long and needy moan from the older man and he thrust his hips forward, his cock shoved into Randy's touch. Sliding his cock in and out of Randy's fist, he bucked his hips in unison with the slow strokes and every time he moved his hips back, Randy's finger pressed deeper into his body. _

_Randy bit down on his own bottom lip. John's face was flushed, eyes closed in concentration, those familiar lips slightly parted… the way he moved under Randy's touch… Every fiber of Randy's body screamed to take him. Now. And at the mere thought of driving his cock into the tight heat of John's ass made him painfully hard._

_As he changed the angle of his finger he suddenly felt John tense for a moment and the blue eyes snapped open wide, accompanied by a heavy pant. Again a wicked smile appeared on Randy's face. He'd found John's sweet spot…_

"_Fuck me…" _

_The sounds of the still running shower almost swallowed the weak plea but Randy heard it nevertheless and it elicited a groan from the younger man._

_He leaned forward, bringing his lips close to John's ear and growled: "Oh, I will, Johnny. Don't be so impatient…"_

_John turned his head a little, the blue orbs darkened with lust and he opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat as Randy added another finger and picked up the speed a little. And then a third._

_After what felt like an eternity Randy stopped his movements, earning a disappointed hiss from the older man but he didn't waste any time and positioned himself behind John, pressing the head of his dick against John's rear end softly, feeling him gasp under his hands. He had a hard time to hold back but despite the overwhelming desire to claim the man in front of him he hesitated._

"_You sure, Johnny?" he asked quietly, running one hand almost soothingly over John's lower back._

"_Do it already," John half growled, half begged and pushed back against Randy, impaling himself von the younger man's cock._

_John clenched his teeth and tried to hold back a pained groan. He clutched around Randy and the younger man moaned in pleasure and lust. Rolling his hips forward, Randy buried himself completely in the tight heat, causing John to cry out hoarsely. The older man's breathing sped up as he tried to fight down the pain, willing his body to relax. _

_After a moment John nodded and Randy began to move and his moans and John's whimpers filled the room, soon transforming into groans. Pounding into John's body, stroking him in the rhythm of his thrusts, he grabbed his hips hard enough to leave marks. John was so tight, so hot, moaning Randy's name, pushing back against him, meeting him with every thrust, that Randy felt himself getting closer and closer to the end, feeling that John was close, too._

_Leaning forward, he licked over the thick muscles of John's shoulder, grazed and nipped the skin with his teeth and whispered against it: "Come for me, Johnny…"_

_He bit down hard into John's shoulder and with a breathless "Randy!" John came, his whole body shuddering under the impact of his climax, clenching around Randy's cock, dragging him over the edge. He grunted and came in John's tight heat._

_Moments__ passed by as the two men just stood there, John with his hands braced against the wall, legs quivering and Randy with one arm wrapped around John's waist, his other hand close beside John's on the wall to support them both. His forehead rested between John's shoulder blades. He refused to move and as his softening cock slipped out of his lover's body he felt a strange kind of loss, wondering if John was feeling the same. _

_Finally John reached out and turned the shower off, straightening up and Randy pulled him back against his chest, his other arm wrapping around him, too. Only the sound of dripping water disturbed the quietness that fell over the room. _

_Then John turned around to Randy, hesitantly as if he was afraid to shatter the peaceful moment. Randy's arms never left their place around John waist and when the older man faced him, he pulled him back in to hold him in a tight but gentle embrace. Slowly John wrapped his own arms around Randy's neck._

_While they gazed at each other, Randy marveled how good, how right it felt to hold John like this and he wondered what was going on in John's head. The well-known baby blues were looking at him somehow unsure and at the same time they sparkled with joy. The same joy that tingled in his own body in the wake of their encounter. _

_A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, John's eyes flick to his lips and back up to his eyes. Then John leaned in and kissed him. It was a gentle, slow kiss. A soft nip on Randy's bottom lip, a soft touch of John's tongue and Randy opened his mouth, his tongue dancing with John's. It was a simple kiss, yet the best in his whole life and he wanted it to last forever._

_When they finally broke apart he saw something in John's eyes that drew him in and he stole another sweet kiss from him. It was addictive… _

"_I love you…"_

_The words were whispered against his lips, warm like the sun, but they made Randy freeze in cold shock. As if he was burned he stepped away from John, staring at him with wide eyes. _

"_Randy?" _

_John's voice was weak, unsure, and the expression on his face, in his eyes gave away that he was afraid that he'd said too much. And he had. _

"_Can you please say something?"_

_Randy took another step back. And another, scared to death of those words and their meaning. And it wasn't only because John had said them to him… it was because… he realized that he felt the same. That he'd felt it all the time without knowing what it was. His heart pounded fast and heavy in his chest and he tried so very hard to remember how to breathe. Maybe he should have been happy and thankful about those words, but he couldn't… This… would ruin his whole life. It would ruin everything that he'd worked so hard for._

_Desperate John walked towards him, holding out a hand, pleading, begging, while fear shone in his blue orbs. _

"_Randy, please… I…"_

"_John, we can't… okay? I can't do this."_

_John swallowed heavily, his jaw muscles twitching._

"_Don't say that. You already did it," the older man pressed out. _

_John looked so hurt that Randy had to avert his gaze._

"_I love you, and don't tell me that you're not feeling the same. I know you, Randy. I know what I saw in your eyes and I still see it there."_

"_It would never work. Someone's gonna find out about it and we would lose everything," Randy whispered harshly, looking back at John._

"_We would lose our jobs at worst. So what? For me it would be worth it."_

_John's statement stung and guilt exploded in his chest._

"_I can't, John. I worked too hard for my career and my reputation to risk it for…"_

_Randy interrupted himself when he realized that his next word would have been… you. But even though he didn't finish his sentence, John must've gotten the message nevertheless. The older man paled and Randy saw in his eyes that something deep inside him shattered._

"_You are my best friend, Johnny… That's not gonna change."_

_Without a word John wanted to turn away from him and leave, but Randy grabbed his arm and pulled him back, wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. For a moment John struggled to get free, but then he surrendered and buried his face against Randy's shoulder, breaking down in silent sobs._

"_I'm sorry, so sorry…" Randy whispered over and over again, absurdly trying to comfort him although it was him who had caused his pain._

_They stayed like that for minutes, John crying silently and Randy whispering tender words. The tears that burned in Randy's eyes never fell, but he knew that they would haunt him forever…_

Accusing. His own eyes. He'd chosen his career over everything else in his life. He'd _sacrificed_ everything in his life for his career, _including_ his life. And he'd sacrificed _John_ for his fucking damn career. If he simply would have admitted that very night that he loved John, too… it's not a thing you can keep in the closet and maybe they would have lost their jobs. And maybe they wouldn't.

They grew even closer after that night yet it felt like sometimes there was an invisible wall that separated them, especially in the past weeks. He sighed. He felt a tingle in his fingertips, something that happened every once in a while, when he remembered the feeling of John's skin under his touch.

_We are a perfect match._

John had said it once to him, eyes sparkling, smile blinding and dimpled and back then Randy had taken it as a completely platonic thing. Now he knew better.

_You were right, Johnny…_

From that night in the shower up to tonight it could have been a happily ever after but instead he'd driven John into the arms of that man. He was responsible for everything that had happened to John.

Randy turned away from the mirror, not able to bear his own sight any longer.

Slowly he walked to his living-room, lost in his thoughts. His way ended at the window and his gaze floated over the darkened world outside. The vivid sundown was replaced by the dark blue of the night, a velvet and almost black tint. The brilliant lights of the stars sparkled through shreds of clouds. A peaceful sight…

Time seemed to stand still, leaving him nervous in anticipation. His eyes swept to his watch, showing him that he still had to wait about twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes to the moment that would change everything. To a good end. At least that was what he hoped.

_The words_ that were long overdue, he'd practiced them in front of the mirror, feeling completely silly. Like a giddy schoolgirl. He wasn't used to say _the words_. But then, suddenly and to his honest surprise, it wasn't difficult anymore because every time he thought of John his sad little heart began to dance in joy, singing _the words_, bringing them to his lips. Randy smiled to himself.

_I love you. The soundtrack to my heart…_

He wondered if John would ever forgive him…

Twenty minutes…

The quietness of the room was disturbed by the ringing of his cell. Randy walked over to the small table beside the couch and picked the small device up. Frowning he flipped the cell open and answered the call.

"Hey, John. Need help to find the way?" he greeted the older man, trying to keep his voice light.

"Hey, Ortz." A small pause. "I, uhm… I'm not coming over, sorry. I'm beaten."


	3. Chapter 3

Instruction manual for the third chap: put on feely-touchy, maybe slightly depressing and/or threatening music and switch the lights off for optimal results.

Read. Love it (hopefully so :-) and review. ;D

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Randy noticed that John's voice was somehow hushed, but his attention focused on the fact that John just told him that he wouldn't come over.

"What? You can't be serious! I thought you'd be here any minute," Randy exclaimed, honestly disappointed and unsettled. "Oh, come on, just a few hours. You can crash on my couch if you're too tired to drive back home."

Silence fell for a few seconds.

"Look, I can't, Randal," John said finally and there was a slight catch in his voice. "I… it wasn't what I wanted..."

"Yeah," Randy sighed heavily. "Yeah, I get it, John."

Randy's voice sounded more clipped than he wanted it to, but he couldn't help it. His ears registered a whispered _Bye_ and then the call was ended. Throwing his cell onto the couch with a frustrated hiss, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

This was a fucking rotten situation and he felt helpless and frustrated and disappointed and he just couldn't understand why John stood him up. It wouldn't have been the first time John crashed on his couch. And why the hell was he Randal-ing him? He hated that and John knew it and that was why he only did that if he wanted to annoy him…

His hand dropped to his side and his eyes snapped open, gaze flicking over to his cell. His thoughts slowed down, coming to a halt. Brows furrowed as a sense of foreboding grasped at him. No. John had and would never cancel one of their evenings together. He just wouldn't. There was only one explanation… One word, like a bad taste in your mouth. George.

_I'm beaten. _

He felt a cold grip around his heart and stopped breathing, closing his eyes…

_I… it wasn't what I wanted..._

The remaining air in his lungs escaped with a wheezing sound and the idea that was forming itself in his head sickened him to an unbearable extend. He reached up, laying a hand on the spot over his heart, his fingers clenching in the fabric of his shirt. Something inside him broke and for a brief moment he was sure that his heart had stopped beating.

The sudden beeping of his cell made his head snap around, his eyes wide and after a second or two he brought himself to move over to the couch, his steps hesitantly. A short message blinked on his cell and the contact-ID showed _Johnny_.

He took the cell, opening it and stared at the screen. The message symbol kept blinking but he hesitated, fearful of what it might tell him. But he had to read it and his thumb moved to press the read-button…

_~You were right this morning. I'm so sorry.~_

And while Randy stared at the words, trapped in his own small world of realization and horror, shocked and scared to the core, a second message arrived. He leaned against the couch for support and opened it.

_~Never forget that I love you.~_

His body and mind went numb under the impact of those words. The tiny flicker of hope that lightened up, because John still loved him and that there really could be a chance of John and him being an item, died away under the agonizing finality of these words and the void it left behind was filled with a sudden wave of pain and fear that rolled through him, washing away the numbness.

A single sob tore from his throat. He turned around, his eyes seeking a picture of John and him that was standing on the sideboard and while he did, his cell slipped from his fingers.

He walked over and brushed his fingertips lovingly over the frame, before he reached up to the baseball bat that hung above it on the wall.

The bat lay heavy and solid in his hand as he weighed it. The picture of John, bruised and battered flashed up.

_Never forget that I love you._

A shadow cast over his eyes and with it came a weird calmness that carried a white-hot rage. And while his feet started to carry him to his car, his hand held the baseball bat in a death grip. He let go of rationality and let the rage take over…

x

He opened the door with his spare key and slipped through. It was dark. Randy frowned. No, not completely dark. Flickering lights and dimmed sounds coming from the living-room area indicated that the TV was on. Still… it seemed unnaturally quiet. He closed the door, careful not to make a sound and moved over to the living-room as quiet as possible.

Randy stepped into the room… and froze. The baseball bat seemed warningly heavy in his hand and a cold grip closed around his heart. He felt the hair on his neck and arms raise. The flickering lights coming from the TV illuminated a part of the room just enough to reveal a picture of destruction. A bad feeling coiled up in his belly.

The TV wasn't sitting on its place on the sideboard… it lay in front of it. The glass plate of the coffee table was broken, the shards lying under and around the table. The cushions of the couch lay scattered around the room ant the couch itself was dipped on its back.

His heart sped up, a heavy and painful pounding in his chest, and his breath hitched in his throat. Something was badly wrong. Closing his hand tighter around the baseball bat, he stepped in further, his eyes roaming, though it was too dark to see the whole room.

"John?" he whispered sharply.

Randy paused for a moment, listening. No answer. His eyes fell on the remote on the floor, right in front of him. He bent down, picking the small device up and switched the sound off. Again, he listened into the semi-darkness.

It was a small sound, a wheezing, wailing, coming from a dark corner of the room, which made Randy's blood freeze. The knot in his belly uncoiled, setting a wave of hot fear free that rolled through him and he started to move into the direction of that sound.

A ripped shirt on the floor. Crimson stains. A motionless body, curled up in a fetal position.

"John," Randy breathed as he kneeled down beside him. "Oh god, no…"

One arm was shielding his head as John lay there in the corner, clad in only boxers and with his back against the wall. He was covered with nasty bruises and scratches, blood. Paralyzed Randy stared in horror. He tried to breathe, tried to fight down the urge to throw up but his body refused to obey and he felt bile rise up his throat. Randy turned away, retching, closing his eyes, until he'd calmed down again.

Hesitantly he turned back to John, lifting John's arm gingerly away from his head only to reveal busted lips and eyebrows, more bruises and blood. The left eye and the cheekbone were already thickly swollen. Randy blinked back hot tears as he brushed over the short blond hair with gentle fingers.

"John? Hey, look at me…" he urged quietly.

But there was no reaction.

"Come on, you can't do this do me… please wake up," he pleaded.

A small moan. Randy leaned closer, taking hold of one of John's hand, whose breathing sped up at the touch. With a weak attempt he tried to jerk his hand out of Randy's, but the younger man didn't let him.

"Ssh, Johnny, it's okay. You're safe now."

Dazed eyes looked up to him, the unswollen one widening slightly when John recognized Randy.

"Go… go…" John whispered, panic lacing his words and he gave him a weak push. "He's still here… go…"

"I'm not going anywhere without you, Johnny," the younger man promised.

There was a flicker of hope in those blue orbs, gratefulness. And love. _Love._

"Aaw, how _sweet_!"

The sharp voice that cut through the semi-darkness made Randy look up to the door, where George leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. John's breathing became faster again and his fingers dug into Randy's hand. Randy gazed back to him, his heart dropping when he saw the panic stricken face of his friend, the wide eyes filled with fear. He peeled John's fingers off his hand.

"It's okay," he tried to reassure John, brushing tenderly over his good cheek.

Then he stood up, his fingers closing around the baseball bat and the raging fury that boiled in him flared and grew with every breath he took.

"I'm not surprised that you came here, after I caught John sending you… _messages_," George said casually. "But you can go home, this is none of your business."

Randy decided not to respond to that and just answered instead: "I'm gonna make you pay, bastard!"

His voice was something between a growl and a hiss and he stepped away from John, creating a safe distance… just in case…

"Leave," the other man commanded, taking a few steps towards him, but Randy didn't budge. "He's not yours."

When George stopped, there were less than two meters between them and Randy drew himself up to his full height, his body tensing up, ready to strike. There was the sound of movement and a low, broken groan from behind Randy, followed by fast, ragged breathing and a stifled sob. Not daring to break his gaze away from George, he could only guess that John tried to sit up.

"I told you to stay down, bitch!" George bellowed and started to move around Randy and towards John, but Randy blocked his way, raising the baseball bat just a bit but enough to remind the other man that it was still there, in his hand.

"_Stay away from him_," he snarled, his body itching to beat that man to a pulp and he had a hard time to hold back.

Despite the raging fury that he felt, he tried to bring back the calmness. He had to. He needed to get John away from this man and losing his head wouldn't be of help. But he failed.

His name was whispered, a pain filled plea that sent a cold shiver down his spine and a sting to his heart. His whole body and mind screamed to walk over to John and gather him in his arms, ease his pain, shield him from harm.

"It's gonna be okay, Johnny," he called back over his shoulder.

"Yeah, it's gonna be okay, Johnny," George parroted, lips curled to a nasty smile. "After you told him to go. Come on, _Johnny_, tell him to go home. I've got a surprise for you… _babe_."

"Oh, I'm going home," Randy assured him. "And John is going with me."

George barked a laugh.

"I don't think so, Orton."

"I don't give a _shit_ what _you_ think."

His eyes stayed fixed on George's, trying to assess the man in front of him. He was taller than he remembered him to be and broader than John, but not athletic.

_Strong but slow…_ crossed Randy's mind.

It was only a twinkle in the other man's eyes that warned him, before George leaped forward, a fist raised. Too slow. Randy sidestepped him, George's fist grazing his chin only slightly. The baseball bat however connected with the attacking man's stomach with a solid thud. With a pained groan George clutched his stomach, slumping to the ground and in a blink Randy stood above him, kicking him hard against the shoulder until the man rolled onto his back.

Aiming for George's head, he raised the bat.

"You're not gonna do that, Orton," George hissed, curling his lips into a smile despite the pain he obviously was feeling.

Randy did not answer, instead he raised the bat a little more. His face was blank of any emotions but his eyes burned ice cold.

"You don't have the balls," the man to his feet taunted, but his eyes gave away that he wasn't sure anymore.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of… _George._"

"No… Randy, don't…" John tried to call out to him, but it was only a hoarse croak that left his lips. "Don't do that."

"Why? He doesn't deserve to live," Randy spat, voice as cold as his eyes, which stayed fixed on George's.

"They're gonna take you away from me…"

It was only a whisper but the desperation it carried eased the rage he felt enough to bring back the calmness. But he wouldn't let George get away just like that.

With a feral roar Randy slammed the baseball bat down and into his roar merged the fearful cry of the man to his feet, who tried to shield his face with his arms. Only few inches beside George's head the bat hit the ground loudly, the shards of glass that were lying there underlining the impact with a sickening crunch.

For a few seconds the only things to be heard were the tiny whimpers coming from the man lying on the ground and Randy's harsh breathing. Then the Viper shoved George's arms away from his face with the bat and pushed the tip of it hard against his jaw. Randy's whole body trembled under the effort not to end this… him… right now.

"You're gonna rot in jail, sick bastard…" he spat, giving George a hard kick into the side.

"Randy… let him go…"

Randy's head snapped around to John.

"_What?!_" the younger man growled in disbelief, but he regretted it instantly when John winced at the tone.

"No police. Please, Randy."

John's voice was weak and it made Randy's chest ache. He couldn't understand why John wanted him to let that man go and everything in him screamed to ignore John's wish and call the police, but the way John looked at him, begging, pleading, defeated him. He turned back to George.

"Get up," he hissed, stepping back.

And George did get up, very slowly, holding his stomach.

"Go," Randy commanded and followed when George started to walk towards the door.

They were almost out of the room, when Randy heard the man in front of him utter: "You're gonna regret that, bitch."

It was the last straw and something inside the Viper snapped, wrapping his mind into a red haze of fury. He struck out with the bat, putting every bit of frustration, fear, rage and hate into the blows. The piece of wood connected with George's arm, then his shoulder, breaking bones and ripping ligaments and muscles… tearing screams of pain from the other man and those screams brought a mirthless smile of satisfaction to Randy's face. _It was not enough…_ Just as he raised the bat a third time, aiming again for the man's head, he heard John cry his name faintly through the haze.

Randy shook his head and gritted his teeth, trying hard to get a grip on himself. The bat fell from his hands.

"Get. Out." he pressed out. "Get the fuck OUT!"

When George did not move, he grabbed him and pulled him out of the room to the front door, ignoring that the man was hardly able to walk, where he pushed him against the wall. One of his hands closed tightly around George's throat, tight enough to leave bruises and cut off the other man's air supply.

"John belongs to me. _He always did_. And if you _ever_ come near him again,_ I swear I'm gonna kill you_. I'm _happily_ gonna go to jail if that mean that _he's safe_."

With that, he opened the door and shoved him out. He didn't even wait for a sign that George had understood him. Seeing the man scramble away from the house in panic before the door fell close again was enough. George was badly hurt, but Randy couldn't have cared less. Every fiber in his body demanded to follow him and…

Blood pounded in his ears. Randy groaned into the sudden silence, closing his eyes against the need to go after that sick bastard.

His name was called, ever so quietly, ever so weak and again it was John's voice, that brought him back, brought him down. A broken moan reached his ears. His feet moved on their own accord, bringing him back to John's side as fast as possible. John struggled to push himself upright, his arms shaking visibly under the strain. Randy knelt down beside him, wrapping his arms very carefully around him. Gently he pulled him up and against his chest.

"… didn't want that… I'm sorry…" John whispered as he sagged into the younger man's embrace, holding onto Randy's shirt with an alarmingly weak grip. "Randy… I'm sorry…"

"It's not your fault, Johnny," Randy hushed him, trying hard to blink back hot tears, which again burned in his eyes.

_It's my fucking fault... I'm sorry, Johnny, so damn sorry..._ he thought bitterly and the guilt cut through him like a burning knife.

"It's okay now, he's gone and he's not gonna come back," he murmured, rocking the body in his arms tenderly. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again. Promise."

With as shallow sob John buried his face against Randy's chest and started to cry. And while Randy held him, whispering reassuring words over and over again, silent tears of sorrow and relief started to run down the younger man's face…


	4. Chapter 4

Weekeeeeend! And I got me a flu. Well, more important is what I got for you: that would be a weekend-snack

Thanks for dropping by, guys ;-) and as always, reviews are love!

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Taking most of John's weight, Randy more or less carried him from the car to the house. Every few steps, when he felt that John sagged a little more into his arms, he stopped and waited a moment, before they continued their way. So very slowly…

The minutes after he'd thrown George out had been a small eternity, still time seemed to had passed in a rush… Collect the most important things like wallet, some clothes, cell, make sure the windows and doors are locked… things like that. Helping John slip into a tracksuit had taken most of the time and every small sound of discomfort… and pain still echoed in his mind. John had refused to go the hospital and as much as Randy wanted him to see a doctor… he couldn't force him.

The worst thing was, that since they had left John's place, the older man just wouldn't look at Randy or say more than only a yes or a no. And Randy had no idea why. His worry grew with every passing minute.

Finally they reached the front door to Randy's house and when the door fell shut behind them, a faint moan was the only warning Randy got before John's full weight pulled him down as his knees buckled. But Randy managed to bring them down gentle.

He kneeled on the floor with John sitting between his legs, leaning heavily against the younger man and for a few seconds Randy was sure that John had passed out. But then he felt weak fingers try to get a hold on him.

"Randy… 'm sorry…"

The words were barely audible.

"Ssh… stop saying that…," Randy murmured, tightening his arms around John as if he could dispel the ache in his chest by doing so.

His eyes swept through the hallway, stopping at the stairs they would have to climb to get to the bedroom. Something that seemed to be impossible at the moment. Right now it would be hard enough to get John back on his feet again and he wouldn't risk carrying 240 pound of dead weight up the stairs.

John whispered his name again, turning his face against Randy's chest and it was then that the younger man noticed that John started to shiver. Changing his hold on John slightly, he brushed his free hand over the short blond hair and breathed a kiss on his temple. The couch…

"Okay, we have to get to the couch. But I need your help," he said quietly. "Just hold on to me and then we do one step at a time. It's only a few meters."

Wrapping his arms around John's chest, he pushed himself up and pulled John with him, cautiously and not without effort.

When he felt that John wrapped his arms around his neck, he whispered: "That's it, Johnny. Just hold on."

Again Randy took the most of John's weight as they walked over to the couch, holding him upright even as his knees buckled again. As they finally reached the couch, he let the body in his arms sink down onto it and took off John's sneakers, before he carefully helped him to lie down.

John's eyes were closed and his face was pale and distorted in pain. It hurt to see him like that… Swallowing hard Randy straightened up, giving John's hand a light squeeze.

"I'm gonna get you a blanket and ice, okay?"

He tried to keep his voice as calm and quiet as possible as he spoke, receiving a tiny nod from the older man. Still fighting an inner battle if he should call a doctor against John's will, he made his way through his house, fetching a blanket, an ice pack and a washbowl with water, a washcloth and went back to sit at John's side. He spread out the blanket over John's legs.

"Johnny, I need you to sit up," Randy said as he took his arms and laid them around his neck. "We have to get you out of your sweater."

The arms around his neck tightened their hold a little and slipping one arm around the older man's back, he pulled him into a sitting position. And John still averted his eyes. Getting him out of the sweater wasn't easy and Randy winced at every groan and gasp that escaped John's mouth. Reaching for the wet washcloth he held him up in the sitting position and started to clean John's back gingerly.

With a hiss John buried his face in the crook on Randy's neck, trembling and wincing as the washcloth slid over his bruised back, over scratches and cuts, cleaning away the blood.

"I know it hurts," Randy whispered against the short blond hair. "I'm sorry…"

He put the washcloth aside and for a while he held John close, murmuring soothing words until the trembling subsided. And although there was nothing he wanted more than to never let go, he helped him lay down again and started to wash away the blood from John's face, who fixed his eyes on an invisible spot on the ceiling.

As the blood was wiped away the bruises that blemished the pale skin became even more visible and he noticed that John pressed his lips to a thin line, making the splits break open again. Continuing his task Randy reached out with his other hand and touched those lips with a feather light touch on an unharmed spot.

"Don't…"

The tension in the lips eased but John still refused to look at him and turned his head slightly to the right, away from the touch. To Randy the simple move was like a slap in the face. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, his brows furrowing in grief as he tried to fight down the flaring ache in his chest.

Turning his attention to the washbowl to wash out the cloth he wondered why John wouldn't look at him, even evading his touch suddenly. Anger? Fear? Sorrow? Pain? He had no answer and he knew he wouldn't get an answer if he asked now. When he turned back to John, washcloth and ice-pack in his hands, he noticed the worry-lines on his face and the trembling lips. And a thin, glistening line that ran from the corner of his eye down his cheek…

Randy took a deep breath as his eyes lingered on John's face. He would have given everything to make the past undone.

Carefully he put the ice on to older man's swollen eye, murmuring: "You think you could hold the ice?"

John nodded and reached up to the ice pack and while he held it onto his eye, Randy started to wipe the blood from his upper body, cleaning the scratches and cuts, brushing softly over nasty black and blue marks. And again he winced at every gasp, every hiss and groan the older man gave, pausing at a huge black and purple bruise on the right side of his rib cage.

Randy couldn't even guess in how much pain his friend was… Maybe to soothe John's pain, maybe to soothe his own pain… or both… he settled his free hand over the bruise and felt the body under his hand jerk, drawing another groan from John who had fixed his eyes on the younger man at the touch.

Randy's gaze snapped up and when his eyes fell on John's, his friend averted his gaze and turned his head away again. Not able to stand this any longer Randy took the ice pack out of John's hand, letting it fall to the floor. He framed John's face with his hands and made him look at him, ignoring the weak resistance. But then John closed his eyes, again refusing to look Randy into the eyes.

Randy sighed and rested his forehead against John's, while his thumb caressed the good cheek.

"John… come on, look at me…" he murmured. "_Please_."

"Can't…" John whispered.

"Why?" Randy asked confused, worried.

Gently he took one of John's hands and laid it on his own cheek but John tried to pull his hand back as if touching Randy would hurt him. Randy didn't let him.

"How can you… want me to… to touch you…?" John asked in a broken voice and those words, filled with so much grief and despair, threatened to tear Randy apart.

_Shame…?_

And Randy felt tears well up and this time he did not try to hold them back as they started to fall. It was when the first droplets touched John's face that the older man hesitantly opened his eyes… and surprise was written in them as he gazed right into the sorrow-stricken grey orbs that were hovering above him.

_Finally…_

Even though Randy knew that it wasn't a good moment, he wanted to say _the words_ to John. He wanted it so very much. But _the words_ failed him as they refused to pass his lips while his heart cried them with every single beat.

_I love you…_

"Johnny…" he breathed against John's lips, so very tender and so full of the love he failed to speak out.

For a moment it felt like the whole horror had just been a bad dream as he closed the gap and laid his lips on John's. An almost inaudible sob escaped the older man's throat and his hand, which still rested on Randy's cheek, slipped to the younger man's nape to pull him closer. This kiss was simple and innocent, just a soft touch of lips and a shy meeting of tongues, yet it felt like it saved them both.

It was John who broke the kiss finally. His hand lingered on its place on Randy's nape, holding him close.

"Randy, I… why…?"

_You are the one…_

"Because I…" Randy began, thinking of the moments when _the words_ fell from his lips like a content sigh.

… _love you…_

Those moments, when his heart sang _the words_, so full of joy.

_The soundtrack to my heart._

He'd done it before, said them out aloud, over and over again. And maybe this wasn't a good moment but it was _the right, the one_ moment… he felt it and this moment, it was so fragile… and _John_… the cracks in his soul were so clearly visible and Randy knew that if he messed this up now, that one single word would be enough to shatter him.

… _I love you…_

He mouthed the words silently, letting them float on his tongue, on his lips. It was as easy as that, wasn't it? So very, very easy…

Brushing his lips against John's, he whispered: "Because I love you, Johnny. I love you…"


	5. Chapter 5

After I lost myself a little in posting chapters to All I have, I'm gonna post another part here until I've got enough time to go on with All I have an Angel on your shoulder.

Hope you enjoy this and if so, let me know, guys ;D

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John screwed his eyes shut and his brows furrowed in grief as he took a few sharp breaths. It almost seemed like he battled a pain deep inside him, a pain much worse than the physical pain. His hand slipped from Randy's nape, falling to his side where it clenched to a fist. Confused Randy drew back.

"Do you hear me?" Randy whispered, trying to fend off the older man's pain with his words. "I love you, John. I…"

Randy's words died in his throat as John's breathing became harsh and in a vain attempt to give comfort he let a hand brush over the short blond hair but whatever John fought… he lost. And all Randy could do was watch helplessly, suffering silently with him.

John's hands settled on Randy's chest and it wasn't the weak try to push him away, but the hoarse, wailing cry that suddenly tore from John's throat, so full of desperation and pain, which made the younger man recoil from him. The cry became a heavy sobbing as John crawled off the couch, away from his friend and he began to limp across the living-room with so very slow steps. A broken image of the man Randy knew.

After a few steps John tried to straighten up, to square his shoulders… probably to give himself the strength to stay upright somehow, to keep on moving, but it was clearly visible that every single movement caused him screaming pain.

Too shocked from what just happened Randy remained sitting on the couch, frozen in horror as he watched John walk away. Hot tears were still falling from his eyes, blurring his view and he blinked a few times hard, trying to stop them. He failed.

_This can't be happening… this can't be happening…_

"John?" he finally spoke quietly. "Do you _hear_ me? _I love you..._"

His voice was begging and his words were a pure plea, but he didn't care. He'd just poured his heart out to John and now John… left him behind?

"Why're you doing this? John, _please._.."

For a moment John stopped and Randy saw the broad shoulders tremble, but then the older man continued to limp away from him.

"There's… nothing left… to love…" John rasped hollow while he moved further.

"Johnny?" Randy whispered weakly, confused… still not able to get up.

But only a few agonizing steps later he saw John sway and it was then that he finally managed to shake the shock off. With a pained groan John reached blindly for a hold that wasn't there as his knees gave out… and he fell. In a heartbeat Randy was at his side, catching him at the last moment to ease his fall. John's dead weight pulled him down with him and Randy grunted in pain as his knees hit the floor hard.

The room fell quiet. It was a choking, deafening quietness that seemed to focus on Randy as he kneeled on the floor, cradling John's motionless body in his arms, as he whispered the older man's name, receiving no reaction from him. This time John had passed out. Randy shifted a little to sit down, holding him as tight as he dared to, and buried his face against the short hair… and with a broken sob he started to rock back and forth slightly.

The quietness around them became thicker and more and more crushing with every passing moment and unconsciously Randy started to murmur calming words, telling John that everything would be alright. That he would _make_ things alright.

Moments passed. Minutes. And Randy kept on murmuring to John, holding on to him and to his own words, which passed his lips like a mantra, his promises and pleas keeping him company while he waited for John to come back to him.

It was a quiet moan that eventually stopped his words and with a tender touch he smoothed over John's cheek, urging him to open his eyes. A sigh fell from his lips as John finally opened his baby blues and looked up to him and he was relieved, although they wore the same expression as before. But at least he was awake.

"Don't you ever do something stupid like running away again, you hear me?" Randy whispered, cupping the older man's jaw with his hand.

Automatically John turned his face into the touch, but his eyes became somehow distant.

"I… I betrayed you…" Faltering words, whispered in a voice so heavy with guilt. "Don't deserve your love…"

Betrayal? Randy's eyes searched his friend's face for a hint what he meant. Did he really consider his relationship with George, as far as it could be called like that, a betrayal?

"Stop talking nonsense, Johnny," he hushed him, tightening his hold slightly and John's gaze focused back on the here and now.

The normally sparkling blue eyes were dull and tired, lacking of the joy there used to be. Randy felt weak fingers clutch his shirt and whispered _I'm sorry_ reached his ears. His brows furrowed in sorrow.

"There's nothing you have to apologize for, so will you finally stop it?" he said very quietly and placed an infinite tender kiss on John's lips.

The older man's breath began to hitch but there were no more tears left to fall and Randy shifted his hold on him, tucking John's head under his chin. Hushing him, he began to rock back and forth again, gently, running a calming hand over his back.

Burying his face against Randy's shoulder John whispered: "Love you, Randy… always have…"

_God, thank you…_

"And I love you," Randy replied softly, relieved that he finally got through to him. "All of you. And nothing can change that, okay? _Nothing_."

For a while they stayed like that, John wrapped up in Randy's arms, resting against the younger man and Randy continued to rock him gently. The quietness returned, spreading over the room like a thick and heavy blanket and again it seemed to focus on Randy. It created a small cosmos and the time in it stopped, yet it gave Randy _too much time_ to _think_ and with it came even more pain. And it was a numbing pain...

Between the two of them it had always been John who was the stronger one, in every imaginable situation. Always anxious to make sure Randy was alright, regardless of possible personal costs. So selfless… so precious… Always the optimist. But now, when Randy looked down on the man he held close to his heart… all this had been taken away from him. Now it was up to Randy to be all that for John…

When he felt the tension fade from John's body and the breathing became even and soft, Randy knew that exhaustion had taken its toll and that he'd fallen asleep.

"I'm gonna make things alright, John-John. Promise," he whispered, unheard by his friend. "You're safe now. You're safe…"

His eyes wandered over to the couch, pondering if he should carry John back to it. It was close but the bed would give John more comfort. Every single bruise would hurt even more when he would wake up again and Randy had to make sure his friend felt as comfortable as he could… in the current situation…

Carefully he scooped him up, ignoring his protesting back and knees, and made his way towards the stairs. Cursing the stairs under his breath he walked it up cautiously. The last thing he needed was a free flight down, least of all with John in his arms. The fucking stairs never seemed to have had so many fucking steps the last times he walked it…

Eventually he reached his bedroom and settled John down gently. The older man whimpered quietly and rolled onto his left side, more or less curling up in a ball, but he didn't wake up and Randy wondered if it was a bad dream or if he hurt even in his sleep. After a brief moment of watching him, Randy slipped out of his clothes, his eyes not once leaving John as if he could vanish just like that and then climbed into the bed.

Carefully he lay down behind John, tucked them both in and slipped one arm under his head, his hand finding John's and he intertwined their fingers. His other arm wrapped around his friend's middle and he pulled him back against his chest, careful as not to jar his injuries. As their skin touched he was rewarded with a small sigh from John and it put an equally small smile on his lips that died instantly when he noticed how cold John's skin felt. He scooted as close as possible, until their bodies touched from head to toe. It could have been a perfect moment… perfect if this would have been another time… a moment weeks before everything went wrong.

Randy closed his eyes and nestled up against the solid body in his arms. The quietness had followed him from the living-room, now ensconcing itself here, in his bedroom that was meant to be a shelter. He turned his face against the short hair that tickled his cheek while his hand, which rested on John's belly, smoothed over the soft skin there.

The quietness blamed him. It accused him for being the cause of what had happened to John and if the quietness had been something tangible he would have told it to fuck off… because he was very much aware of all that. Too aware. He felt so many different things beside unbearable guilt and pain and helplessness, things he didn't even have words for and all those emotions threatened to tear him apart. Every single bruise, every cut, every tiny scratch on John's body… and every crack in his soul… was his fault and if he would have gotten a chance to it, he would've changed places with him. But he couldn't. And he couldn't tell the quietness to fuck off.

So instead he placed a kiss on John's neck and a second, nuzzling his face against his fiend's neck to soothe his own inner turmoil by the simple contact. Long minutes he listened to the older man's even breathing, felt the steady rising and falling of the chest under his touch… it lulled him in, calmed him… and he allowed himself to fall…

x

A sharp movement pulled him out of the peaceful depth of a dreamless sleep and he tried to push awareness aside and slip back into the calm nothing he'd just emerged from… but then reality hit him full-force through the haze of his half-sleep.

_John…_

A surge of adrenaline rolled through him as he found his arms empty and he shot up into a sitting position, blinking into the semidarkness of his bedroom. It was another sharp movement and a weird sound… a choked whimper… that made him turn to his left.

John wasn't awake, but fidgeting in an uneasy sleep. It almost looked like he was struggling against something… or someone. One of his arms was thrown over his head, as if he tried to shield himself… the other rested beside him, stark and stiff, his fingers clutching the bed sheet. Then his whole body went rigid, still there was a trembling that rippled through him. He was obviously caught in a nightmare. A thin sheen of sweat covered him…

With a frown Randy turned around to him, sitting beside him and tried to move the arm that was covering John's face out of the way but the second he closed his hand around John's wrist, the older man yelped and lashed out, his hand missing Randy's face by a hairsbreadth.

Everything happened in only a few moments, leaving Randy shocked and in cold horror.

Fast, harsh panting made his chest heave arrhythmically in deep, strained breaths. Dread coiled up in Randy's stomach and he reached out to lay a hand on the older man's shoulder, but John jerked away from the touch. Digging his heels into the mattress, his body reared up, his hands clutching the sheets in a death grip. And then John slumped back onto the bed, every muscle in his body tensing up. Choked cries tore from his throat, scaring Randy, shaking him to the core and between those cries there were stifled moans and words, pleas…

"_No… no, please… don't… please… not that… George…"_

Scared Randy tried to peel John's hands off the sheets, but it didn't work… tried to shake him awake, but there was no reaction. Desperate he framed John's face with his hands, trying to urge him awake by calling his name, first hushed but then louder, insistently, but whatever nightmare John was going through, it kept him prisoner.

A long, low and pained groan escaped John's throat and it almost sounded like he was dying. Then his eyes flew open and rolled back into his head until there was only white left… and in a blink it all stopped. The cries, the struggling… and then John stopped breathing.

Agonizing long seconds Randy wasn't able to move, waiting for his friend to take a breath again. But nothing happened.

"Johnny?" he croaked.

Nothing. He started to hyperventilate as he realized that. Panicked he grabbed his shoulders and gave him a few rough shakes, calling his name and when he got no reaction, he leaned down, pressing his lips onto John's and started to breathe for him. Still nothing…

"No, nonono, John! Don't you dare…" Randy whispered and he felt his body go numb in fear.

"Breathe! Breathe, dammit!" he yelled and not knowing what to do anymore, he slapped him hard in the face, breaking the splits on the older man's lips open again.

With a deep and sharp gasping breath John came back, his eyes fixing on Randy, although it seemed that he didn't recognize him, that he still was somewhere else in his head. Tension flooded him again. But Randy leaned in nevertheless, gathering him in his arms and even though John's hands shot up to claw at his shoulders, to get a grip on him and pull him away. Randy held onto him for dear life, utterly relieved that he was breathing again but John fought him frantically, summoning every last bit of his strength and the younger man had a hard time to keep his hold on him.

"Sssh, John, it's me, Randy," he tried to calm him down. "It's okay, you're safe. You're safe…"

If his resources were used up or he'd finally recognized who was holding him, Randy never found out, but eventually John's resistance died away. Randy lessened his hold, giving him some room to move and John leaned back a bit, trembling, breathing fast and shallow, but when their eyes locked Randy knew his friend was really with him. Those familiar blue eyes were wide, scared and glaring panic shone in them and Randy couldn't help but settle a hand on the good cheek, which was still reddened from the slap, caressing it tenderly.

"Hey, Johnny," he spoke quietly. "What…"

He was cut off when John leaned back in. Burying his face against the crook of Randy's neck he clung to him, still trembling, still breathing fast and the whispered _Randy_ sounded as scared as his eyes hand been. And Randy followed his call, wrapping his arms around him.

Gently he settled them both back on the bed, pulling him close. He needed to be strong. He had to be. For John. For _his_ John, who curled up against him, trembling, who cried in his arms when there were no more tears left to fall, who whispered his name over and over again, like a plea. And Randy kept holding him, wrapped him up completely while his heart broke, because he knew right now this was all he could do. Just hold him and hope it eased John's pain a little.

"It's okay," Randy murmured, running a comforting hand over John's back and up to his nape to let it rest there, while his other arm pulled him even closer. "I've got you, John-John. I've got you…"

He lost track of time as they lay there and while Randy held John, he stared into the semidarkness, trying to blank his mind. What had happened today… all of it… it was too much. Too much to think about it now without losing his mind. But there was a word that crossed his mind over and over again and it roused red and screaming hate from deep within him.

_George._

He shouldn't have listened to John, shouldn't have let him get away like he'd done.

_I'm gonna make you pay…_

Somehow. He would make him pay somehow and this time the man wouldn't get away…

At some point he noticed that John's breathing had become even and he focused his attention back on his friend, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, before he allowed himself to close his eyes, concentrating on John.

For the rest of the night Randy watched over him and there were no more nightmares. Except for the one Randy was still going through, knowing that this might just have been the start to something much worse…


	6. Chapter 6

Hi guys!

Here we have another part to this story. I promise I'll post new parts to my other stories soon :D

Thanks to all of you who read, fave and comment on this one!

Especially to JorriexLover (I love ya, gurl ;-), BrightAsNight (you're an incredible writer!), JerichoholicAnonymous (who doesn't even like John-Boy, so I appreciate your reading and commenting even more :-), VindictiveJohnDarkFantasy and chloeyuki (faithful souls you are ;-).

Enjoy!

xxx

_The tour had been long. Very long with more than enough time to think and all he wanted was to repair the damage he'd caused. With an apology as a first step and only a few more minutes separated him from that first step. And he was so damn nervous._

_The first thing he'd done after coming home was texting John if he was up for a beer and John wrote back that he would be out with some of their co-workers and that he should join them. So they wouldn't be alone, but that was okay. It was a start._

_Pushing the door to the bar open, his eyes scanned the room for the older man and found him standing in a corner, a drink in his hand and some guy at his side who was leaning in close, obviously whispering something into John's ear. A small smile appeared on his friend's face. Then he laughed softly, saying something to the guy who started to laugh, too. To Randy this man was a stranger… but he and John seemed to be very familiar…_

_Randy watched them for a moment or two and after he managed to wrench his eyes away from John, who looked quite happy with the company he had, he tried to assess the guy. He was about John's size. Well, maybe a little taller, broader. Brown hair, an ordinary face. And he didn't seem to be a very nice person, regardless of the way he acted with John. A weird sensation tugged at Randy's insides when he saw John close his eyes, the happy smile on his lips changing to a soft, content one as the man leaned even closer. It was the kind of smile Randy's didn't want to see directed at someone else than… _

_He snapped out of his thoughts the second John's eyes fell on him. A blink later that beautiful, dimpled megawatt smile spread over the older man's face and he said something to the guy before he made his way over to Randy. A scorching glare hit the younger man as the guy looked at him but for now he didn't care and instead focused on John who just reached him and pulled him into a tight hug. With a silent sigh, Randy wrapped his own arms around him. John could have just said Hello or Good to see you… but he settled for words as simple yet important, almost as if he felt that Randy needed something warmer._

"_I missed you," John spoke quietly, turning his face slightly against the younger man's neck._

_In response Randy tightened his hold a little as he replied as quietly: "Missed you, too, Johnny."_

_The hug ended too soon and when they separated, Randy felt a strange loss. John's smile had dimmed a little and a questioning expression crossed his face as he searched the younger man's face._

"_You alright?" he asked softly._

_Involuntary Randy looked over to the guy who kept standing where John had left him, staring at Randy with the same scorching glare as before. John followed his gaze._

"_Who's that?" Randy wanted to know._

_John looked back at him._

"_His name is George," the older man explained slowly, almost carefully._

_Randy looked a moment longer at the man… George… before his eyes found back to his friend, waiting for some more information._

_When no further explanation came, he said: "George, huh? You two seem to be close."_

_At those words John's smile vanished and Randy's brows furrowed a little when he noticed it and they furrowed a little more, when John grabbed his arm and pulled him aside to a quiet corner. John's hand slipped down Randy's arm to his hand, holding it in a light grip._

"_Listen," he started hesitantly, "George is… I…"_

_John sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders, before he continued: "He's my boyfriend. Damn, that sounds weird…"_

_Silence. In which Randy stared at him dumbfounded. But then the information sunk in and it hit him like a sledgehammer. This was John's boyfriend. His partner. A man. A… man…_

"_A man? John, you…"_

_There was a glint in John's eyes that made Randy fall silent. A glint that said, careful now what you say. _

"_Yeah, Randy, a man. As far as I remember you are a man, too, and we…" John interrupted himself and pressed his lips together as if he tried to bite back bitter words. "Anyway…. I thought that you as my best friend would accept it. But I guess I was wrong."_

_Randy was far from accepting it. Not because John had chosen a man. It was because John had chosen another man… than him. He knew that John had every right to have a relationship, no matter if it was with a woman or a man, and that he had no right to interfere. He'd forfeited that right the very night when he chose his career over John. _

"_No, John, I didn't mean it that way," he apologized, closing his fingers around John's. "I'm sorry. I was just… surprised. But… I mean, why?"_

_John sighed and it was obvious that Randy's choice of words again strung a chord of annoyance within him, but he bit it back._

"_George makes me laugh and he's good company, Randy. He's there and he distracts me."_

_From you. John didn't say it, but his words carried that message. The truth stung and Randy's hold on John's hand tightened. His eyes flicked from John to George and back._

"_Do you… love him?"_

_He willed those words to pass his lips and John tensed. Then John pulled his hand back and out of Randy's._

"_No. I don't. And he knows it," John stated simply. "But really, Randy, why would you suddenly care?"_

_Randy swallowed hard. There was much more damage to repair than he thought he would have to face. And he wanted to say that he cared because he never once had denied that he loved John. What he'd done was to choose his career over him and NOT to say that he loved him. Randy had the chance to say all this to the older man this very moment… but he didn't. He still didn't want to risk his career. God damn, he was such a fucking bastard…_

_John stared at him and it was an intense stare. The blue eyes were deep, inquiring, daring him to answer the question and Randy opened his mouth to say something, closed it and opened it again, before he sighed heavily because he couldn't give an answer. John nodded resigned, brushing his hands through his face._

"_Fuck," he muttered but then a small smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. "Hey, Ortz, let's drop this, okay? I'm happy that you're back and I don't want to fight. Come on, I want to introduce you to my… boyfriend."_

_Here they were, Randy being Randy, screwing things up and John being John, trying to fix things. So much for Randy's good intentions. But he also didn't want to fight, so he gave in and changed the subject. For now._

"_Boyfriend… that sounds so gay, Cena," he remarked, cocking an eyebrow at the older man who frowned lightly, but there was mirth sparkling in his baby blues._

"_It IS gay, Orton. But I swear if you dare call me that just one single time I'll make you sing soprano in the future," John bit back playfully and took hold of his hand again to pull him over to George._

_Randy let himself being dragged through the crowd and towards a man who he not really wanted meet, but he knew he wouldn't get around it. And with every step he came closer to the guy, Randy became more and more aware of the fact that George took his place in John's life as his… partner._

_And then they stood in front of George, who still glared at Randy and John didn't seem to notice it. Or maybe he ignored it. Instead he introduced them and excused himself right afterwards to get some drinks. Randy did his best to keep a neutral face. This was John's… partner after all and Randy owed him to be as nice as possible to George. But George kept glaring._

"_Keep your hands off of him," George snapped all of a sudden, his voice matching his glare._

_Randy tilted his head slightly to the side, pursing his lips before he replied, very politely: "John and I have been best friends for years. You know him since, what, two weeks? So, no, I'm not gonna keep my hands off of him. I hug him if I want to, I pat him if I want to. I'm gonna do whatever I want as long as it's okay for John. So live with it."_

_The other man's face darkened more than visibly. No, this man wasn't very nice. A few tense moments later John was back and as if to mark his territory, George slipped an arm around John's waist and pulled him for… a kiss. A small one but it was enough to make Randy grit his teeth. And the way John side-gazed him, uneasy, almost guilty, didn't escape his notice._

_What followed was two exhausting hours of trying to keep the peace while the tension grew, what most likely only worked because their co-workers finally joined them. After those two hours John explained that he was tired and said his goodbye and when Randy eyed him closer, he did indeed look very tired. And resigned. John wasn't dense. He was too damn aware of the fact that Randy and George wouldn't get along, Randy saw it in those beloved blue eyes. It was more than clearly written in them._

_When John left, he didn't give Randy the usual and familiar goodbye-hug and that alone made Randy feel somehow queasy. It was so unlike John. And then Randy watched him leave with George, who had his arm wrapped around John's waist. The younger man kept staring at the door even minutes after it had closed behind John and he only faintly registered that his co-workers talked to him._

_He'd chosen his career over John. Twice. Back at that night at the shower and again tonight. It had been his own decision… it was what he wanted, right? His career. Then why did hurt so fucking much? And why did it feel like John was walking out of his life? _

Randy stared aimlessly into the softly illuminated room as his thoughts drifted from the past back to the here and now. There had been so many fucking moments… moments in which he should just have swallowed his pride. All this should never have happened. And he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to forgive himself…

He blinked slowly and a single tear escaped from his eye, falling down onto his pillow were trickled away like a sigh.

The night had been long but with the first light of the morning there was a tiny hope sparking within Randy. After those horrifying minutes in the past night, John's sleep had been more or less calm, but without another nightmare. He'd watched him the whole night, full of fear it could happen again. And all the time he'd held him close and safe, every once in a while whispering soothing words and promises. Apologies…

Maybe this new day could be the first step for John to leave behind whatever had happened. Besides the obvious signs all over John's body, there was something else and Randy hoped that he would tell him…

The dim light of the morning crept through the half closed blinds and flooded the room with calmness. It felt good to hold John like this, their bodies touching from head to toe, John's back pressed against his chest. One of Randy's arms was resting under the older man's head, his other arm was wrapped around his waist to hold him close. Just like they'd fallen asleep before… before _it_ happened.

For a second Randy closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He concentrated on the steady rising and falling of John's chest, trying to blank out those moments… God, no, he didn't want to think about it but it crept back into his mind. Those agonizing moments he'd feared that John wouldn't come back.

But now it was okay. John was breathing. He was there and alive. His arm around John's waist tightened its hold and pulled him even closer and with a shaky sigh he turned his face against the short hair, seeking even more contact to shut out the cutting, searing guilt that threatened to devour him.

"I'm so sorry… _I'm so damn sorry_…" he whispered. "I hope you can forgive me, Johnny. I'm gonna do everything it needs, even it's the last thing I ever do. God help me, I love you… I love you so much…"

A small moan caught his attention and John's breathing became stronger. A mumbled _Randy_ followed and Randy lifted his head a little to catch a glimpse if John's eyes were still closed. They were and the younger man lowered his head back onto the pillow.

Another small moan and then John mumbled with a slightly stronger voice: "Randy?"

"Hey, John-John," Randy murmured against John's nape, placing a tender kiss on the soft skin there. "How're you feeling?"

The body in his arms shifted slightly and for a second he thought that John was still asleep, that he'd just been talking in his sleep.

But then John pressed back against him with a sigh, slipping deeper into the calming embrace, before he whispered: "Like shit. Every fucking fiber of my body hurts."

John's hand settled on Randy's that still smoothed calming trails over his belly, intertwined their fingers and moved their joint hands up to the spot over his heart.

"But I think… maybe I feel a little better than last night," he added then.

They stayed like this for silent minutes, both comfortable and content in the others presence. But the silence was broken when John spoke again.

"I could be dead by now," he said quietly and Randy cringed at the words and the mere thought that John was right.

"Don't say something like that," Randy mumbled and nuzzled John's shoulder. "Just don't. You're here now, with me. You're safe and it's going to be alright. That's all that matters. You and me."

He kissed his way from the older man's shoulder to his neck and nestled his face against it.

"Thank you, Ran."

Gazing over John's shoulder into the main direction of the window, his eyes watched the glimmering gold that the rays of light that fell through the blinds wore and for a heartbeat or two he relished the sound of this new pet name.

_Ran_

"Don't be silly, John-John. No need to say thanks," he replied softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

John slightly shook his head no, shifted to turn in Randy's embrace to face him and Randy did his best not to wince as his eyes fell on the nasty black eye and the huge bruise that visibly formed on the cheekbone. He lifted his hand to the older man's face and touched the still swollen cheek carefully and John closed his eyes at the tender touch. His friend looked utterly exhausted…

"Not yet. Give me some more time, okay?" he whispered and when he opened his eyes there was a strange shadow in their depths.

"As long…" A soft kiss on the bruised cheek. "… as you need, Johnny." A kiss on John's forehead.

He didn't want to push it. Didn't want to push _him_. John needed time and Randy would give him as much time as he needed to come to him and tell him what had happened. John scooted closer until he could bury his face against the younger man's neck, wrapping one arm around the slender waist and Randy closed his arms around him again, holding him close and he sent silent words of gratitude heavenwards that after all that had happened, John still wanted him so close.

But then he noticed that John started to breathe faster, warm breath, which sent goose bumps over his arms, fanning over the skin of Randy's neck and he frowned worried, letting a hand smooth over the blond hair.

"What is it?" he asked.

He waited for an answer that came after a few moments of hesitant quietness.

"I… never slept with him," John finally said very, very quietly and his voice was heavily laced with an emotion Randy couldn't put his fingers on.

The frown on Randy's face deepened as he tried to figure out why John mentioned that now. What he tried to tell him besides the obvious meaning of the words. At least it sounded like there was more behind it…

"Okay," he replied, keeping his tone neutral. "But even if, you and… George have been an item for a while and…"

"No!" the older man whispered, almost desperate. "Never, Randy. Not once. I never considered sleeping with a man except you and…"

"Ssh, calm down, Johnny. It's okay. It's okay," he hushed him as he felt John's breathing become even faster.

_I never considered sleeping with a man except you…_

Those words should have given him a good feeling… but instead they caused the opposite. Rubbing calming circles on John's back he waited until he felt the breathing slow down again and his own thoughts from the last night came back to him. Thoughts that said that the last night might just have been the start to something much worse. That this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Foreboding stretched its head out of the growing inner turmoil of so many emotions and tugged at the younger man's insides. Notice me, it said. Notice _it_,it said. If he could just put his hands on what _it_ was. But _it_ wouldn't reveal itself to him, so he pushed it aside for now.

Trying to change the subject he asked: "Wanna stay in bed a little longer?"

Randy felt lips move against the skin of his neck, leaving a kiss there, before John leaned back a bit. If possible he looked even more exhausted than after waking up. But there was a tiny smile on his lips, a rueful one.

"I want to stay here with you forever, but I need to go to the bathroom."

Randy smiled back.

"Okay, let's go then."

Entangling himself from John, he rolled over and slipped out of the bed and waited for his friend to follow. And John did. Slowly he crawled over and sat on the edge of the bed, remaining there for a minute.

When John stood up, Randy took hold of his waist to steady him and John's hands settled immediately on the younger man's shoulders for support.

"Dizzy…" he mumbled, screwing his eyes shut.

"We've got time, Johnny," Randy said, circling the older man's waist with one arms while his other hand came up to cup John's jaw.

A tender kiss was placed on John's forehead, a second on the tip of his nose. The third left a warm tingle on his lips and in between the kisses Randy whispered soothing words. After a few moments the dizziness seemed to fade and the baby blues opened again.

"Okay?" Randy asked hushed and John nodded slowly.

They started to walk over to the bathroom and Randy left one arm wrapped around John's waist. Just in case. John walked slowly and was still limping a bit, but they made it there eventually.

While brushing his teeth Randy pondered if a bath would break the cuts and scratches open again. Probably more than a shower… but John looked like needed at least a hot shower for his aching muscles.

"How about a shower?" he asked, side-gazing his friend. "Maybe it makes you feel a little better?"

John sat on the rim of the tub, his eyes fixed on the floor and his gaze distant. In the light of the bathroom all the bruises were on full display and Randy had a hard time to wrap his mind around the thought how someone could do something like that to a person.

"Johnny?"

After another moment John eventually reacted and looked up to him, mumbling: "Huh?"

"Do you wanna take a shower?" Randy repeated.

With a slow nod John got up from the tub and walked over to him, rinsing his mouth.

"Yeah, I guess a shower would be good," he replied and added quickly: "But alone. I need some time alone, Ran."

Searching John's face, which wore a pleading expression with eyes that were exhausted and still filled with this strange shadow, Randy nodded finally, though he was far from being okay with leaving John alone up here.

"Sure. But the door stays a crack open, okay? I'm gonna go prepare breakfast. Just call if you need something."

John nodded and with a small smile Randy leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on the busted lips and John rewarded him with a hum.

x

Having the breakfast prepared, Randy walked over to the living-room to clean it up and when he arrived at the couch, his eyes fell on John's sweater beside it on the floor. Reluctantly he picked the sweater up. It was stained with blood. Not much though, but enough to make him wince.

Maybe he should put it away before John came down, so he walked over to the utility room, threw it in the main direction of the washer and closed the door, pondering if he should just throw it away completely. Sighing he went back in and disposed it into the trash can there, before he made his way back to the couch, picking up the bowl with the cloth that still sat on the table.

Back in the kitchen he emptied the bowl into the sink, watching the slightly reddish water drain off. His eyes rested on the cloth, which was also reddish colored and with a hissed _god damn_ he threw it into the trash.

Randy leaned heavily on the counter and closing his eyes, he hung his head. He had no fucking idea what to do, what to say. Where to start. Should he act completely normal and wait how John would behave? He couldn't handle him with kid gloves, could he? John wouldn't like that… On the other hand, after last night…? But he didn't want to make things worse.

_Fuck…_

Then something knocked on his busy mind, asking for attention and he blinked a few times, until it dawned on him that in the whole time he'd been down here, there hadn't been the sound of a running shower. He frowned.

"John?" he called out, but there was no answer.

His frown deepened and worry tugged at him. No shower, no answer…

"John?" Randy called again, while he all but jogged the way back up and to the bathroom.

The door was a crack open, just like he'd left it. He hesitated, listening and the harsh, ragged breathing that was coming from the room sent a chill down his spine, made him freeze. It was a whispered Randy that wrenched him out of it and he pushed the door open, only to freeze again in shock.

John sat on the rim of the tub, hunched over, holding his midsection. With two quick strides Randy was at his side, kneeling in front of him.

"Johnny," he said quietly. "What's wrong?"

The older man's face was twisted in pain and he was sweating and he was obviously trying to get his breathing back under control. Randy reached out to wipe some beads of sweat away, which were pearling down the side of John's face.

"My stomach hurts," he pressed out through gritted teeth.

"That's it, John, we're going to a hospital," Randy said, but John shook his head.

"No. No hospital," he breathed.

"I'm not going to watch you collapse, okay?" Randy replied and his voice was on the verge to sounding annoyed because he was so damn worried.

But again John shook his head and he reached out with one hand to lay it on the younger man's cheek, while his other arm stayed wrapped around his middle.

"Please, Randy," he almost begged. "No hospital."

Defeated Randy closed his eyes for a brief moment, before he nodded and leaned in, wrapping his arms around John who leaned against him in responds, his head resting on Randy's shoulder. Frowning Randy noticed how cold and clammy John's skin felt under his touch. This was so not good.

"Okay, no hospital. For now. But I'm calling a doc, I wanna be sure that it's nothing severe," Randy said decidedly. "And I don't want to hear complaints, Johnny."

After a second he felt a tiny nod against his shoulder and then John turned his face into the crook of Randy's neck and took a deep and shuddering breath. And a second, followed by a groan.

Praying that it _wasn't_ as bad as it seemed to be, he waited for John to calm down a little, so he could leave him alone up here for a minute or two and rush down to get his cell. Shivering and groaning John kept leaning against him, one of the older man's arms circling Randy's waist while the other stayed fixed around his middle. Every once in a while John's hold on Randy tightened, accompanied by a groan, obviously the very moments when the pain flared up. Randy for his part just held him, dropping kisses on the top of his friend's head, offering soothing touches. What else could he do?

Endless minutes later he went down to get his cell and call a doctor…

x

Agitated he paced up and down like a tiger in its cage. The doc had sent him out of the bedroom and now he was waiting for the man to finally come out there again and tell him what was wrong. It didn't help a bit that he already waited about half an hour. Walking over to the window, he leaned heavily on the windowsill and gazed out into the brightly lit day.

At another time it would have been a beautiful day, perfect for a run or some other outdoor activity, for a barbeque or just sitting outside for an hour or two with a good book. The sun was shining brightly, only small clouds dotted the blue sky. How fucking idyllic…

Sighing he pushed himself away from the windowsill and walked over to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. The breakfast sat untouched on the table and the coffee was still on the hot plate. Randy grabbed the coffeepot and drained the meanwhile blacker than black liquid into the sink.

When he heard steps coming down the stairs, he let the coffeepot drop into the sink, not caring if it broke or not and rushed out towards the living-room, where he found the medic. He was standing by the couch, his bag on the table but his eyes were fixed on some invisible spot on the wall. Approaching the man slowly so as not to startle him, Randy walked up to him and came to stand at his side. As there came no reaction, he stepped into the doctors view.

"Doc? How bad is it?" he asked quietly and a little scared about the answer.

"As far as I can judge it right now, it's nothing life-threatening," the doc explained as his gaze found Randy eventually. "But he needs rest and you need to have an eye on him. If something noticeable happens, like seizures, blackouts, fainting, lasting stomach cramps or things like that, you need to get him to a hospital. And when the swelling around his eye lessens he should go to an eye specialist and let it be checked. He says that he can see normally as far as the swelling allows it, but such a blow to the eye can leave damage."

Randy swallowed at the words and nodded and the fact that something else seemed to be on the man's mind didn't escape his notice.

"Do you know who did that?" the doc then asked slowly and Randy nodded again.

"Yeah, I know who it was. But John doesn't want to report him to the police," he replied bitterly.

After a moment of silence in which the medic studied Randy's face, he shook his head.

"Well… if you know his name, you should consider to report the man to the police, no matter what Mr. Cena wants or not. It would be the right thing to do. Because this… goes far beyond beating someone up," the man answered, his face darkening somewhat and he paused, before he reached into his bag and produced two small bottles. "However, here are some painkillers and that one's ointment for the hematomas. Apply it three to four times a day… also on those on his thighs."

Frowning Randy took the bottles, but his eyes never left the man in front of him.

"Okay…?" he replied reluctantly. "Uhm, are they worse than the others or why did you mention them?"

There was something in the man's eyes as he opened his mouth to reply, but then he closed it again, almost as if he convinced himself not to say what he wanted to say at first.

"Just... make sure that he gets enough rest," he eventually said.

Randy's question avoided, he made his way to the front door, where he turned around to Randy, eyeing him. Randy knew that he didn't need to try and dig further, this man was a doctor and wasn't allowed to tell him details, although he'd hoped the man just would ignore that fact. Fucking medical confidentiality.

"You can call me anytime of course if there are any questions," the man added, before he nodded a good-bye and left.

The door clicked shut and Randy's heart sank. He swallowed hard and his hands clenched around the small bottles. As much as he wanted, needed to go up to John… at the same time he did not want to go up there, because he knew… what waited for him wasn't good.

Quietness fell around Randy like a velvet blanket and his nightmare continued…


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, one more before the weekend arrives in all its glory :D

This one is a rather short part, but I hope you like it nevertheless? ó.ò

Anyway, thank you so much for your reviews for part 6 and I hope I'll get some to this one? *winks*

Enjoy!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

… _also on those on his thighs …_

It was now that he realized it… It had been quite dark back there and Randy had been much too distracted by the situation… he couldn't remember if he'd seen bruises on John's legs. And ever since they had left John's place, the older man had worn his track pants.

Randy tried to keep his breathing on a normal level as he stood in front of the closed door to his bedroom. Faintly he registered a quiet rattling. The painkillers in the bottle produced that small sound... He swallowed. When had he started to tremble? He swallowed again, hard. He was afraid to go in there, somehow. Scared about what would await him.

Willing the tremble to stop, he closed his hands a little tighter around the bottles, took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes for a brief moment, before he straightened up and opening the door.

The room was still dimmed. Randy found John sitting in the bed, propped up against the headboard and the blanket pulled up to his waist, while his hands rested beside him, fingers fisting in the blanket. The older man's eyes were open, fixed on a random point on the opposite wall and when Randy approached the bed, he turned his head slightly away from him, avoiding his eyes. The small movement reminded Randy of the night before and his chest clenched. Hesitantly he sat down on the edge of the bed, putting the two bottles on the bed stand and he reached out, laying a hand on John's to peel it off the blanket, but the older man pulled his hand away, giving him a painful sting to the heart. Wet trails on John's face told him that he'd been crying, but his face was blank.

"Johnny…" he said quietly, begging.

John remained quiet for a moment or two and when he eventually spoke, his voice was strained: "The doc said it's a projected pain, nothing serious. The cramps result from the bruising in that area. He said there might be slight inner bruising, too, but nothing life-threatening. Can you please go now, I'm tired and I want to sleep."

Randy gasped silently at his friend's last words. Hard, cold words. John was sending him away? His eyes started to burn suspiciously.

"No way. I'm not gonna let you alone again. If you want to sleep, okay, but I'm staying here," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I thought you'd collapse, John. You scared the shit out of me."

"Please… just go…"

The older man's voice was barely audible as he said those words. Silence fell and Randy watched John close his eyes, watched as brows furrowed in grief and lips tightened to a thin line. The younger man wanted to reach out to him, to soothe his pain, but he knew John wouldn't let him and it hurt so much… to see John like that and not be allowed to hold him. After a few moments, Randy said the older man's name, pleading, desperate.

"Please look at me, John," Randy said when John did not react. "Why do you want me to go? What have I done?"

When the blue eyes finally opened again and locked with his, they were wide and pained and so very lost.

"I don't want you to hate me, Randy," John whispered and his voice was laced with the same pain that was written in his eyes. "I don't want to lose you."

Randy reached out again and took hold of John's hand and this time the older man let him.

"Then _why_ do you send me away? I don't get it, John."

"Because if you… if…" John began but then he fell silent, just looking at his friend.

Scooting closer, the younger man leaned in and breathed a kiss on the bruised cheek and then on John's lips.

"I could never hate you," he murmured against his lips. "_Never_."

Again he placed a kiss on John's lips, running his tongue along the lower lip, a tentative touch that begged for entrance and giving in, because this was Randy, _his Randy _and because he wanted to believe his words, John parted his lips and met him half-way. It was a slow and gentle kiss that lasted only a few moments. When it ended, Randy pulled away reluctantly, not really wanting to lose the feeling of the older man's lips on his.

"Close your eyes, Johnny," Randy whispered and after a hesitant second John did close his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillow.

Letting go of John's hand, he grabbed the bottle with the ointment, while his other hand started to brush lightly over the older man's chest, caressing the abused skin and the tense muscles with tender touches. Then Randy leaned down and kissed a large bruise on John's right shoulder, before he squeezed a few drops of the ointment on it and spread it gently. Trailing his fingertips a bit further down to the large bruise on John's rib cage, he felt him tense even more.

Again he leaned down, kissed the bruise and whispered: "Relax…"

Just as before, he spread some ointment on it. Like that he went on with every mark on the pale skin and bit by bit he felt the tension ease. When he finally reached the blanket, he stopped there and nuzzled his face carefully against John's belly, taking in the feeling of the soft and warm skin.

And once more the numbing image of John lying on the floor, curled up, beaten flashed up in his mind, the thought that he could be dead by now… and he whispered the older man's name almost desperate against the soft skin, once, twice and he felt a hand settle on his nape in response.

"I love you," Randy said softly yet full of passion, looking up to those beloved baby blues.

Faintly he saw a shadow of an inner battle John seemed to fight there and slowly he crawled back up, resting his forehead against John's.

"So much, Johnny." A kiss to John's lips. "So damn much it hurts."

A small sob fell from the older man's lips and Randy kissed it away.

"And I love you, Ran," John whispered, but he sounded somehow lost as he spoke. "Never forget that I love you..."

A chill ran down the younger man's spine at the last words.

_Never forget that I love you._

He'd read them last night. John's last message, its words like a foreboding. Closing his eyes he tried to swallow the lingering and now again growing bad feeling down. The hand on his nape moved to the collar of his shirt to pull him closer for another small kiss, before it fell down onto the blanket and this gesture, somehow weak and resigned, fueled the bad feeling, making it even harder to push it into the background.

"Turn over, Johnny," Randy murmured as he straightened up. "Let me take care of your back."

Reluctantly John did turn over, rolling onto his stomach, but he turned his face away from the younger man. Doing his best not to take this to his heart, Randy focused back on his task to take care of John's bruised back. But although John seemed to welcome every single kiss, every tender caress… the further down Randy moved, the more he felt the ease fade from the body beneath his hands.

Just as his hand slid to the blanket to pull it away, John tensed and he reached back to hold it in place. Randy paused, his hand resting on the older man's lower back. Right beside his hand was a dark and purple bruise peeking out from under the blanket, strangely looking like… finger marks. And then the medic's words echoed in his head and a deep frown grew on his face.

"Thanks," John said quietly and scooted a little away from Randy, still holding on to the blanket. "I… I'm really tired…"

"John, the bruises on your thighs also need a treatment. Come on, I'll hurry and then you can sleep a little."

An almost not perceivable wince ran through the older man… but Randy noticed it and that wince made the frown deepen even more.

"It's okay, there are no bruises, Randy, and…"

"John," Randy interrupted him softly and settled his hand on the one that held the blanket. "I _know_ there are bruises, the doc told me explicit to take care of them."

With that he tried to pull the blanket out of John's grip, but the older man's fingers tightened on the fabric. With a silent sigh Randy put the bottle aside and began to peel John's hand off, but John shied away and wanted to bring even more space between them, but this time Randy held him back.

"No," John whispered panicked and his breathing started to become fast and shallow. "No, let go!"

"Johnny, calm down," the younger man soothed and took his hands away immediately, shocked about the fierce reaction. "Ssh, hey, it's okay, everything's okay… calm down…"

Still clutching the blanket in a death-grip, John started to tremble and the broad back heaved visibly as he tried to take deep breaths.

"Please, don't do that," he panted as if something was choking him. "Please, just don't…"

Again a chill ran down the younger man's spine but he stretched out a hand nevertheless cautiously settling his hand on John's. A violent wince was the answer to it, but John's never let go of the fabric. In an attempt to soothe him, Randy let his thumb brush over the back of John's hand, but it was a vain attempt. He felt how the older man wanted to pull his hand away, yet he didn't because it would have meant to let go of the blanket.

"Don't you trust me, Johnny?"

"You know… that I trust you, Randy," For a few heartbeats John turned his head towards Randy, just enough to lock gazes with him and there was a shadow casting over those blue eyes. "But this has nothing to do with trust…"

Yet his fingers unclenched, releasing the fabric. Turning his face away from the younger man, he drew his arm up and buried his face against it.

Hesitantly Randy pulled the blanket away, revealing John's legs and whatever he tried so hard to hide. His eyes roamed the older man's thighs as he did so and a heartbeat later he froze. The blanket slipped out of his fingers. His eyes stayed fixed on the bruises on the pale skin, peeking out from under the boxers. Slowly, so very slowly he reached out and pushed the fabric a bit further up and at the touch he felt John wince and tense even more.

Then Randy's hand stilled as his world shattered.

_Never forget that I love you._

He kept staring at the marks… black and purple marks, seeing _where_ they were… those bruises, on the inside of John's thighs leading up to... His mind refused to accept the image, mind and body numbing under the message it was carrying.

"No…" he breathed. "No…"

_I… never slept with him…_

"Johnny?"

Randy's voice cracked as he said the name like a question… like a plea, begging to tell him that he was _wrong_. But John didn't… _he didn't… _

For a long moment John remained silent, before he spoke quietly: "I told you that there's nothing left to love."

John's voice was ridiculously calm as he said those words. Almost like he'd given himself up. Bending forward, Randy wrapped an arm around his stomach and tried to fight back the urge to throw up as a sudden sickness rose.

_Please God… please let this be a bad dream… I did this to him… it's my fault…_

A small wheezing sound escaped his throat.

"It's my fault… oh God… I'm so sorry… so sorry…" Randy choked and he began to rock slightly back and forth as he closed his eyes against the searing guilt that filled him. "I'm so sorry…"

He repeated those words over and over again, not daring to look at John… And he didn't realize that John sat up after another moment, pulling the blanket around his waist to hide the signs of what had happened the day before.

"Randy…?" John whispered his name like a question. "Randy, listen… What happened is not your fault. You hear me?"

John forced the words over his lips, but Randy did not react to them.

"Look at me, Randy," John whispered again, moving a little closer to him, though he dared not to touch him.

The grey eyes flew open as Randy felt the mattress dip a bit and he stared at John wide-eyed, finding no blame there, no hate but confusion, fear.

"It's not your fault, Randy. Don't ever think that…"

Randy shook his head slightly no in disbelief as John repeated his words.

"How can you say that? Nothing of this would have happened to you if I… if… I loved you all the time Johnny and all of this happened because I… I let you down. I pushed you away… Oh God, please forgive me…"

John's fingers fisted in the blanket, digging into the thick fabric as if he tried to anchor, brace himself against the memories that flashed up, of their encounter in the shower that was still so vivid when he thought of it, of the closeness they'd shared… of the disappointment and the hurt he'd felt when Randy had pushed him away… of the hope he'd harbored that his friend would change his mind… of the loneliness. It all added to what George had done to him and maybe there was a bit of truth lying in Randy's words… but what had happened had not been _his fault_.

"George was my decision. And it was my decision not to break up with him after the first time he beat me up." John's voice was shaky, somehow lost as he spoke. "Nothing that happened between me and George is your fault. Don't blame yourself. _You are the reason I'm still here._"

John lifted a hand to reach out to him, but before he touched the younger man, a scared expression flashed in his eyes and he drew his hand back, faltering, letting it fall to his side. And that very second Randy became aware of the fact that John tried to comfort him when it should have been the other way around, tried to make him feel better, even after what George had done to him. And that John was scared to touch him… This all was so wrong… Again, like so often before was letting him down in a moment John needed him to be there like never before.

"I should be the one being there for _you_… John, I… I'm so sorry… I let you down again…" he whispered and holding out a hand towards John he hoped the older man would take it. "_Please_. I love you, Johnny."

But John didn't. His eyes flicked to Randy's hand and back to the grey eyes, before they swept to his own hand that was still clutching the blanket.

"How can you want me to touch you after… it…?" John whispered hollow. "How can you still love me? Randy, I… I'm…"

And while John spoke, Randy reached out, taking John's hands in his own and the tears that burned in his eyes fell, rolling down his cheeks. Closing his eyes again, he placed John's hands on his now tearstained cheeks, holding them there even when he felt the older man pull away slightly, holding them until he felt John run his thumbs so very hesitantly over his cheeks.

Letting his hands brush from John's hands along his arms to his shoulders, he slowly opened his eyes again and met the beloved baby blues, which looked at him filled with pain, so much pain, yet there was hope and love and he pulled John against his chest, holding him in a tight embrace.

"Don't say that," Randy said as he turned his face towards John's, placing a feather light kiss on his temple. "I love you. All of you and nothing's gonna change that. Not even… that. You hear me?"

The dam cracked… and broke. And with it, John broke down. Sagging against Randy, into his arms, John buried his face against the younger man's shoulder and with a wailing cry he began to sob. The broad arms wrapped around Randy's waist almost painfully as he tried to get even closer to him.

"I love you, John-John… I love you."

Randy murmured those words over and over again, allowing his own tears to fall as he started to rock back and forth slightly. Holding him close all he wished was that he could make the past undone somehow… _somehow_…


End file.
